


to wish and want for nothing

by tboi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dependency, Gen, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tboi/pseuds/tboi
Summary: The clock hits midnight. Two-hundred and seventy-seven.(Connected oneshots that focus on Kite).





	1. none will love the butcher

**Author's Note:**

> 1/? because i might add additional related oneshots to this at a later date. i hc kite as nb hence the they/them but this is tagged as m/m just for like, convenience sake... i have had writer's block for like, a whole ass year, so can't really churn out anything of significant length atm apparently. let me know what you think - i haven't written hxh before :) Also this is set at some time after kite finds ging but like, way before chimera ant arc............ideally lol
> 
> Update : after now writing five more of these than I ever intended they kind of weave together - chapters in this fic can be read separately but make more sense read in order. Thanks !!
> 
> i'm on tumblr @ikesoren 
> 
> title + all chapter titles taken from shitty horoscopes by amrit brar

Kite is shacked up in the middle of nowhere.

 

They’re alone - their team had scattered elsewhere, for various reasons, but there’s a species rumoured to be in this area that Kite is interested in. Some kind of mammal, six-legged, the locals told them - catlike and aggressive. Last spotted the day before today.

 

So they’re staying in the area, for now. An old woman from the village they were staying on the outskirts of had offered them food, earlier, so they sit in the cabin they’re renting and chewing on a carrot. 

 

The area is  _ hot  _ \- it’s cooled down slightly compared to the sticky humid heat that had greeted them upon their arrival in the mid-afternoon, now that night has fallen, the moon in the sky - but they’re still lying on the floor with the windows opened and a shitty desk fan they're facing that they brought with them sadly blowing their long hair just slightly off their face, wishing they were anywhere else. They half-consider getting up to dunk their head in the river they can hear flowing from here, but they lift their arm up to try to move and immediately flop it back down.

 

“This sucks,” they say to no-one in particular. They hope they can catch a glimpse of this new species soon, because they’re bored and tired and  _ lonely _ . 

 

_ When did I last see Ging _ , they think, the same time as they think  _ two-hundred and seventy-six days ago.  _ They hate that they know.

 

Ging had needed a place to stay, and it just so happened Kite was staying in the area at the time - they didn’t really have a permanent address, because they liked to move about, but. They had been staying in a house hidden in the forest, barely on the outskirts of a tiny village somewhere in Yorbia - it hadn’t mattered to them at the time, and thinking back the name escapes them. 

 

It was convenient - Kite was there and Ging needed a place to stay. They know that’s an unfair way to look at it, but. Two-hundred and seventy-six days.

 

(Ging had stayed for all of a month, which to be fair, was longer than Kite had ever known him to stay in one place all at one time. Ging had stayed and planned his next expedition and shown Kite the maps on his half-working laptop, because he refused to buy a new one for reasons that were beyond Kite, and he had shared a bed with them and brushed the knots out of their hair when Kite was too lazy to do it themselves.)   
  
Kite rolls over on the wooden floor with a groan. They don’t know why they torture them-self like this. They can feel the ghost of a kiss on their forehead.

 

The clock hits midnight. Two-hundred and seventy-seven.

 

They go to sleep.


	2. what did you ever do to deserve this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know that koala ant is just called koala? i didnt. i like this one
> 
> tumblr @ ikesoren. one day ill be brave enough to link my twitter that i actually use

“Kite,” Gon starts, stops again. “Kite?”   
  
“Yes,” they say, their own voice still surprising them with its pitch. “Come in. Sit down.” Gon pads across the room, slowly, to sit across from them. He spares a glance at the now cold tea Koala had been sipping on moments before.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gon says. Koala is still in the room. Kite glances sharply at him, an unspoken  _ get out _ .

 

“What for?” they ask. “Sorry for what?”   
  
“For leaving you alone,” Gon says, an uncomfortable strain to his voice. “Now you’re - I was too weak, but from now on, I _ - _ ” Kite raises their hand in the air to stop him from talking. They know what he’s going to say.   
  
_ From now on, I’ll stand by you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it alone. _ An unspoken  _ I still think it’s my fault. _ __  
  
“I spoke to Ging,” they tell him, and the surprise on Gon’s face is immediate. He’s so expressive. “And it’s not your fault I turned into a little girl. Like you told him. I underestimated my foe.” 

 

“Oh, I guess I did say that…” Gon trails off with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t make it here alone,” he continues. “If it wasn’t for everyone else, I wouldn’t be here.”   
  
“Well,” they say. “That makes two of us. Listen,” they reach over to take Gon’s hand in theirs, in what they know is an uncharacteristic gesture of attempted comfort. They try not to dwell on the fact Gon’s hand is barely smaller than theirs. 

 

_ Ants reach adult age fairly quickly _ , Colt had said.  _ I’d say six months at the most for you. You’re in your late-teens just now. _

 

(It is strange to think about. They would have been thirty-three this Fall. They will be, they think to themselves. They don't like to think of being like this as being someone new).

 

“I’m glad you came to see me,” they tell Gon, smiling. “And I’ll see you again. Stay in touch. But I think you should go see Ging, now. While you still can. And say hi to Killua for me.”   
  
“Yeah,” Gon agrees, smiling up at them. “I will!”   
  
Kite waves him off.

 

\--

 

Kite sees Ging six months later.

 

“Where have you been?” is the first thing they ask as he pulls his boots off at the entrance of their house. They’d decided to just stay in the mansion Colt had raised them in - it worked out easier. They tried to ignore how empty it felt when it was just them, there, alone.

 

“Places. Even in a different body, you still outgrew me.”   
  
It’s true - Kite is in their mid-twenties by now (thirty-three, they think, their birthday just passed), and six foot tall. (They were six foot two before. It annoys them.) Their red hair sits shorter than it had before, when it was silver - still at their lower back, instead of being nearer to their thighs. 

 

“Well, some things never change,” they tell him, ushering him into their front room. “Coffee?”   
  
“Nah,” Ging says, immediately flopping down onto their couch and sitting cross-legged. “Come here.”   
  
They do. They’ve never been good at denying Ging. They sit down next to him and are immediately pulled into his side, resting their head on his shoulder.

 

“I saw Gon,” they tell him absent-mindedly.    
  
“So did I,” Ging tells them, curling a strand of their hair around his finger. “He climbed a World Tree to talk to me."   
  
“The one you’re always complaining about not actually being a proper World Tree?” Kite asks with a snort. “He’s a good kid.”   
  
“He is,” Ging says with a sigh. Kite notices his shoulders tense. They don’t say anything.

 

“What are you here for?” they ask, because there’s not point beating around the bush like this. 

 

“You, actually.” Ging says, so earnest Kite’s eyebrows shoot up. “I hadn’t seen you since you got yourself killed.”   
  
“Oh, yeah,” Kite says, deadpan. “How long are you staying?” Ging shrugs - he shrugs like it’s a natural reflex, the same way Kite finds themselves rolling their eyes sometimes before they’ve even realised they’re doing it.

 

“Not long,” Ging admits. The usual, then.

 

“Sleep with me tonight,” Kite asks. “This house is so empty.”  _ It threatens to swallow me up _ , they don't say.  _ It threatens to pull me under _ .  

 

“You should buy a bookcase,” Ging says instead of answering. They know it’s a yes, anyways. “I’ll lend you some books.”

 

\--

 

Kite ends up building that bookcase themselves after Ging leaves. He stays for a week. They wake up with his head on their chest or in between their shoulder blades every day for six days, and then on the seventh they wake to a bed half-cold and a note inside a book left on their kitchen table. 

 

(They knew he would leave. He always does. They still ache).

 

They build the bookcase, and Ging mails them copies of books sometimes. Sometimes they have letters in them, sometimes Ging sends them some weird shit he found washed up on a beach in the middle of nowhere, or in a cave off of the map Kite keeps pinned to the wall in their bedroom. 

 

_ It’s like a shrine _ , they think one day after placing a large chunk of raw tanzanite onto the bookshelf.  _ Everything on here is yours. _

 

There are worlds and timelines of infinite possibilities out there (probably), Kite learned through reading one of the books Ging had sent them - a well-loved hardback that he had pressed dead leaves in between some of the pages. There is one out there where Kite doesn’t die - there is one out there where Kite dies, but Gon doesn’t blame himself, where Kite isn’t born again, where Kite doesn’t die and Ging doesn’t leave and they share a house in the forest and grow old together.

 

This is not that life - this is not that world, that timeline, but when Kite stands back to look at their bookshelf adorned with well loved books and rocks Ging extracted himself, and tiny fossils and beach glass, they think  _ I’m glad it’s not.  _ They think  _ I wouldn’t trade this. _

 

This is enough.


	3. you will have never loved for nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me after waking up from a nightmare at 3am : (looks at kite) this bad boy can hold so much inner conflict watch this (slaps this out in 20 minutes) 
> 
> i have a lot of stuff i want to explore wrt how kite feels about being in A Whole Ass New Body . heres some of it
> 
> tumblr @ ikesoren twitter @neroscaeva

Kite dreams about being shot.

 

Right in the middle of their forehead, bullseye in between their eyes. They know what this feels like, at least - this is all they know about the girl with red hair. She left with her soul, but left them this memory - some kind of sick and twisted parting gift. They don’t know why they remember this. They have died twice.

 

Kite dreams about their head being severed from their body. It doesn’t hurt. About claws digging around in their brain, tiny pinpricks deep in their head, being bled dry. About hands on them, in them, smothering them - about not being able to control their limbs, movements jerky, lashing out again and again and again.

 

They wake in a cold sweat, shoot up in the middle of their too-big-for-one bed, in their too big house in the middle of nowhere. Nobody else is here with them. No-one is ever here to hold them when they cry, and cry, and cry into their hands, red hair splayed out on the bed curled round their feet like a pool of blood, like it could swallow them alive.

 

They can’t remember what they used to sound like. Their voice is too high and too tinny now, a stranger’s voice in their throat. They press their palms to their eyes and see white dots on a red background. They think about dyeing their hair back to the silver it was before.

 

They think about who they are. They can’t come up with a proper answer. Red haired, freckled skin, shorter than they should be. Purple eyes stare back at them in the mirror on the days they can stand to look. Their hat doesn’t fit their head anymore ( _ yet, yet _ , they remind themself), recovered from their last tomb, the place Gon decided avenging them was worth his life - and there is blood on the brim. They keep it on their bedside table anyways. They know it’s kind of gross.

 

They lie back down on their side, too tired to get up and walk across the house to get a drink of water.

 

_ Who am I?  _ They think.  _ Kite the Ant, Kite the Hunter _ . The difference feels so significant, is so vast, and yet-

 

They just feel like  _ them,  _ just put together wrong. As if Pitou’s puppet was all they ever were, even now. They know Pitou’s corpse lies beyond recognition in a forest somewhere far away from here.

 

Colt had called them Reina. Colt had desperately wanted them to be someone else, someone to compensate for his own failures. 

 

Kite had said  _ no.  _ Kite had said  _ not again. _

 

They idly curl a strand of their hair round one of their fingers. It’s late. The night stretches out beyond them, colours their room blue. They don’t know who they are. They close their eyes.

 

They dye their hair the week after, sit hugging their knees with a towel wrapped around their naked shoulders in the bath as they let Spinner coat their hair in the bleach. 

 

The next time they look in the mirror and see silver hair framing their freckled face, the disconnect is less severe than it had been. Their hat fits a bit better.

  
They feel better. They look at themself in the mirror, purple eyes the same colour as the walls of somewhere they holed up as a child, long, long abandoned and think  _ me. It’s just me. _


	4. your love will always be rooted deeper than any grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ELLIOT FOR LETTING ME USE YOUR KITE TIMELINE FOR REFERENCE xoxo dependency is bad 
> 
> tumblr @ ikesoren twitter @neroscaeva

 

Kite is  _ tired, tired, tired _ .

 

They’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of Ging’s dusty, empty (always empty) apartment, their hands shaking with something akin to anger. 

 

_ “You have to do this,” _ Ging says in their head.  _ “Find me. And then you’ll finally be a real hunter.” _

 

They hate that they can remember his voice clear as day. It’s been nine months. Because passing the exam wasn’t enough, because the praise from every employer who has ever worked with them wasn’t enough, because mastering their nen in under a year at the age of fifteen wasn’t enough.

 

_ “I did it in four months,”  _ Ging had said _. “And I was thirteen.” _   
  
_ Never enough _ Kite thinks bitterly, throwing the papers they’re holding in their shaking hands onto the floor before they tear them in half. They’re the latest lead they have on where Ging might be - some ruin deep, deep in the Gordeau Desert. He’s so far away. Kite feels like they have been chasing him for their whole life.

 

They  _ know  _ Ging comes into town, sometimes, knows it by the marks and the bruises they’ve seen on Pariston’s neck that he seems to show off on purpose anytime Kite sees him. They see too much of Pariston. They don’t like him. His perfume is too strong and he cups their face too gently. They don’t know what Pariston has that they don’t. They wish they did so they could emulate it.

 

They’re sick of this. They’re sick and tired of their whole world being this one man, this one person. They remember looking at Ging, once, and thinking they could wish and want for nothing else, nothing more than this. 

 

They don’t know anymore. It’s eating them up from the inside, grief for someone still living. Maybe they should just light a candle for him and be done with it.

 

_ “There’s more to it than this, _ ” Cheadle had told them.  _ “More to life than him.” _

 

_ Is there?  _ they think, hysterically. They don’t know when they started crying. They want to get out of this apartment - even eight months (or so they think) abandoned, it still carries Ging’s presence like a heavy weight - one that Kite has been carrying for half a decade of their life. They want to shed it like it’s a layer of skin, want to let it go - it sits heavy in their heart, and they’re tired of feeling like they owe their life to someone who holds it in their hands like it’s a particularly interesting, smooth piece of glass. 

 

It feels bad. It feels awful, rips them up from the inside. They want to give up on this - they know this is a stupid thing Ging has asked of them, knows it isn’t fair somewhere in them. The idea he won’t speak to them ever again should they fail keeps them rooted to the room. Their phone buzzes.

 

It’s Cheadle.

 

“Yeah?” they say picking up and putting her on speaker, wincing at the obvious strain to their voice.

 

“You’re in town?” she asks, though it’s more of a statement.   
  
“I am,” Kite replies tersely. 

 

“I won’t ask how it’s going. I’m at that cafe you like, if you want to head over.”

  
  


“You mean the one  _ you  _ like?” Kite says, a small smile playing on their lips. (They do like the coffee cake).

 

“There’s one slice of coffee cake left,” she tells them, ignoring the comment. “Do you want me to get it for you?”   
  
“Yeah,” Kite wipes their eyes on their sleeve, stretches their legs out. “I’ll be there in a bit. Thanks.”   
  
“Kite…” Cheadle begins, and they wince at her tone. “You have to stop torturing yourself like this.”   
  
“Maybe,” they say, and they hang up. They think of the world they’ve seen by themself, the memories cultivated by themself, places and people with no connection to Ging who know Kite as  _ Kite  _ and not as  _ Ging’s student  _ or _ Ging’s friend,  _ and they think about how Mizai knows how they take their tea now (iced, or with three drops of milk) and how Cheadle knows what kind of cake they like. There are no strings attached - Kite does not owe these people anything. Kite is sick of feeling like they owe Ging the world. Kite wants to see it, not give it away.

 

They go and get cake.


	5. to rest in crypts and wake in gardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant sleep whats new. U know where I am by now

It starts like this : Kite leaves a single bowl of cat food out on their back porch. They went into town for the first time by themself in this body last week specifically to buy it and a bowl, wearing a long coat to hide the thin tail that now peeks out from their lower back. They’re still getting used to it.

 

The mansion is huge and in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields and a dense forest visible in the distance that Kite has yet to properly set foot into. It’s on their list. There is a singular, white stray cat that they see wandering in the field that is, technically, their back garden sometimes. They have no idea how it got out here, and they’re hoping to eventually coax it inside because they can’t imagine it’s living the safest life possible.

 

So they leave it some food out. The room they sleep in looks out over the back of the mansion, and they’re sitting gazing at the moon again one night (again, because sleeping has become such a struggle these days, when all they dream of is teeth and claws and being torn apart and put together again. Sometimes the name of the girl Koala sees when they look at them is on their lips when they wake up, but they can never remember her name).

 

They’re sitting there, and they see movement below them. They crane their neck out of the open window to better get a look and watch the cat cautiously paw its way over to the porch, looking ready to bolt at the slightest sound. Kite sits very, very still. They sit very still as the cat looks around a final time, before cautiously dipping its head to sniff the bowl, and finally taking a bite. They don’t move again until it takes its final bite and immediately darts back off into the darkness. They let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding, relax the smile on their face they hadn’t realised was there.

 

This continues all week. The cat seems less skittish as the nights pass, and Kite manages to get a picture of it on their camera on the sixth night. They print it out, think about mailing it to Ging.

 

_ What should I name it? _ They ask in their next letter to him.  _ Do you have any ideas? Don’t say something stupid. _

 

On the ninth night they leave the bowl on the porch at dusk, and sit themself next to it. The cat usually shows up around eleven, they’ve noticed, so they sit and wait, the cool summer breeze blowing their hair around their face. They’re growing it out again. They need to redye it - the roots of it are red again.

 

They notice movement maybe forty-five minutes later. The cat moves fast through the thick grass of their garden, almost reaching the porch before it freezes up and notices them. It doesn’t run, which is good.

 

“Hey,” they say dumbly. “C’mere.” They shake the bowl of food in the cat’s general direction hoping to persuade it to not bolt back into the night. It slowly approaches them, and they finally get a good look at it - it has a long coat, a flat face with protruding teeth, and it’s whiskers are crooked. One eye is amber, and the other is a milky blue - it’s blind in its left. It’s coat is more of a dirty grey than a white, though white strands of fur pepper its muzzle. It’s around nine years old, Kite guesses.

 

It’s also extremely ugly. They feel a surge of affection rush through them.

 

It approaches the bowl as cautiously as it did that first night, but it doesn’t bolt - and after it’s done eating, it still doesn’t leave. Kite reaches their hand out and the cat hisses, but after a moment realising they aren’t moving it any closer to it it tentatively gives their hand a sniff.

 

It then presses it’s entire face into their hand, which they suppose is a good sign. It rubs itself against their legs, and Kite scratches it behind the ears for what must be twenty minutes. It eventually flops onto its belly, and they know better than to try and rub its belly, as soft as it looks.

 

“I have to go to bed,” they tell it, because their head is about to drop into their lap if they sit out here any longer. They stand up and slide the glass door behind them open.

 

“Do you want to come in?” they ask the cat. It cocks it’s head at them, before turning around and walking back into the field. Kite watches it until it vanishes from sight.

 

“Maybe next time, then,” they say to the wind. They sleep well that night.

 

—

 

The next morning, they’re sorting through various information on their shitty laptop - they have recently been informed that yes, when it comes to reincarnation, you  _ do  _ have to resist the Hunter Exam - when they hear a noise at the back door. They stand up to check what it is, and see at least ten cats of various colours and markings standing at their back door, the dirty grey, flat-faced regular sitting in the middle of the pack. Kite swears the expression on its face is one of smugness.

 

“Huh,” they say.  _ I need to buy more cat food, _ they think.

 

—

 

_ Name it Amber,  _ Ging writes back.  _ You know, ‘cause of the eye? See you soon. _

 

_ I said don’t say something stupid,  _ Kite writes back.  _ Did you know my Nen class changed? I feel like everything has, except for me. _

 

—

 

_ Gon,  _ Kite writes one night, Ging passed out on their shoulder.  _ You should come visit soon, if you have the time. I have some friends I want you to meet. Ging says hi. He tried to name them all after rocks. _

 

They slip a photo into the letter of their six officially adopted cats lounging in the garden from the end of the summer, just passed. 

 

_ See you soon!  _ Gon writes back.  _ Can I name one of them? _

 

Kite lets him. Coming up with names is not a talent that runs in the family, they suppose - Gon tells them to name the black one curled up in his lap - after ten minutes of thinking on it - Shadow. 

 

Kite obliges him anyways.


	6. you've long seen your downfall spelled out in another's bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for Very Vague alluding to Something Traumatic happening to kite in their past. nothing specific, nothing graphic, but warnings should be here anyways i feel. please be safe !
> 
> this chapter is set directly after chapter five.
> 
> thx elliot for your timeline again xoxo (with regards to that kite meets the zodiacs at like 19 bc ging introduces them just so you are Aware That's Why They Are Here. where is gon? hes chilling)
> 
> with regards to this, i have like, a lot of Mixed Feelings about ging sending kite on this extremely daunting game of hide and seek......in the anime it doesn't seem like they're really that bothered about the whole thing but i think that like, someone you admire just randomly vanishing like come find me lol! is probably kind of damaging especially when kite probably attributes a lot of their chances in life being provided by ging because he so happened to meet them in the sewer that one day and kite probably feel like they owe him like....far more than they do or ever did, if it was anything at all
> 
> JUST SOME THOUGHTZ! for context. u know where i am

“Are you giving up?” Cheadle asks them over her coffee cup. She takes it black. Kite shakes their head.

 

“I _ can’t _ ,” they say, try to ignore the strain in their voice. “This new lead looks promising, anyways. And I finish my jobs.”   
  
“This isn’t a  _ job _ , Kite,” Cheadle sounds exhausted. “You’re under no obligation to find him just because he  _ says  _ you have to.”

 

“Am I not?” Kite sounds exhausted, too. They always sound exhausted. “You know what it’s like. You know what he’s like.”

 

“Unfortunately.” Cheadle says. “Eat your cake. And at least call me at some point this time.”

 

\--

 

Kite calls Cheadle three months later. They’re holed up in a tiny town in some far off corner of the desert, a place with maybe thirty residents and plenty of abandoned buildings. Kite doesn’t ask who they used to belong to - there are families here with noticeable generation gaps.   
  
“Hey,” they say.   
  
“Hey, they say,” Cheadle parrots back, voice frustated. “Where are you?”   
  
“Gordeau Desert,” they tell her. “Those ruins were entirely abandoned, but his team were in the area at some point. Talk of a forest in Kukan'yu.”   
  
“I assume you’re going there next,” she states instead of asking. Kite nods, even though she can’t see them. 

 

“Yeah,” they reply after realising. “I’ll call sooner this time.”   
  
“Call Mizai next time,” Cheadle tells them. “He’s worried. You’re keeping him up at night.”   
  
“He’s  _ that  _ worried?” Kite furrows their brow. Mizai can’t sleep on his best nights, but even then - Kite hardly wants to be the reason for it.

 

“He’s a bleeding heart,” Cheadle sighs. “Sorry, Kite - I’m just tired.”   
  
“It’s okay,” they say quietly. “It’s my fault. I forgot about the time difference.”   
  
“Mmm,” she murmurs, muffled by a pillow or something. “Knock me out with your riveting stories of the desert.”

 

\--

 

It is like chasing a ghost.

 

Ging leaves - not quite clues, and maybe not quite purposely, Kite guesses, but - something. There are signs he has been here by the stamped out fires and the traces of lingering nen that rests around the obviously recently opened entrances to some caves in the cliff sides Kite has been walking along for what feels like forever. 

 

He was here. Now he is not. Kite is here, and Ging is not. Isn’t that how it always goes?

 

It is endlessly frustrating. Kite hates that they know Ging’s nen as intimately as they know their own. It reminds them of the ocean and hands brushing through their hair.

 

He  _ has  _ to be here. He has to be somewhere in this general area, because nen doesn’t linger for that long, and the most recent fire Kite passed was put out last night. They continue along the cliff ledge - the area to which they can spread their nen and search out has increased significantly, but they still can’t reach the top of the cliffs. They can’t even see the top of the cliffs from here, because they’re enveloped by the clouds. Up there would be a better vantage point, they realise. They sigh and begin the ascent.

 

They haven’t slept in three days.

 

\--

 

The view from the clifftop brings back a memory.

 

They are fourteen years old again. They do not yet live in the sewer, do not yet know it is the safest place for someone like them. They do not fear people in the way that they should, the bone-deep inability to trust that marks most of their teenage years. Their hair is only just past their shoulders. 

 

This is what happened - the town they lived in was on the sea. It was dirty and tourist-heavy, and Kite hated it, and Kite dreamt about leaving it behind. The beach, which was the reason for most of the tourism, had jagged, sharp cliffs along parts of it. Kite liked to sit on the top of the cliffs and look out at the ocean, and imagine how it must feel to be able to swim. They had been eating a stale piece of lemon cake.

 

Kite doesn’t like to think about it. Kite doesn’t eat lemon cake anymore. They shake themselves out of it before they can begin to feel hands on their covered skin. They are twenty, and they are in the middle of nowhere looking for a man they have paid their debt off to twelve times over.

 

They look over the edge of the cliff, knees weak (they like to pretend they don’t have a fear of heights, but) unable to see anything below the canopy of clouds they’re standing above. The night is cold up here, and they think about flying. They think about falling. They think about letting this whole, _ stupid fucking arbitrary task _ go and going back to people they know appreciate them and want them around. They don’t know what Ging wants from them. They don’t think they ever did.

 

Up here, they let their nen envelop them, to try and seek out any forms of life. They concentrate very, very hard, and spread it away from them as far as they possibly can, reaching their arms out, spreading their fingers.

 

There is somewhere there, to their right. They open their eyes, and dash along in the direction they could feel the presence in. He must know they’re coming. They just hope he doesn’t bolt again.

 

\--

 

It doesn’t feel like - anything, really. They thought this would feel like - something.

 

It doesn’t. It feels like a sick, twisted joke when Ging smiles at them, all teeth. 

 

“Good job,” is all he says. It makes them want to throw up.

 

“Is that it?” they ask, voice shaking, because they can’t help themself. It doesn’t feel fair. 

 

“Is what it? Did you want a prize?” he asks.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” they say, voice quiet. They’ve thought about nothing but this moment for fifteen months. They thought it would be more than this, thought it would feel like coming home. 

 

“Well, I don’t know what you were expecting,” Ging says with a shrug. “You know me. I’m kind of busy right now. We can talk more next time I’m in town.” His hand makes contact with their shoulder, and it takes every fibre of Kite’s being to not flinch at the touch. “I promise.”   
  
“Okay,” they say softly. “Where are you sleeping?”   
  
“I’ll show you,” Ging says, leading them away from the cliff’s edge and into the thick forest that somehow grows up here. There’s a clearing, not far from the edge, the only signs that Ging had been here before the flattened foliage he had evidently been sitting on at some point. 

 

“Are you staying the night?” Ging asks.   
  
“If it’s okay,” Kite asks, even though they shouldn’t have to. 

 

“Of course it is,” Ging smiles at them, no teeth. “C’mere.”   
  
Kite holds him the whole night because they don’t know what else to do. 

 

\--

 

Kite calls Mizai. Ging left in the night. The weight of his license is heavy in their pocket. They forgot to give it back.

 

“I found him,” they say, miserable.

 

“Did you?” Mizai asks. “Are you coming back?”   
  
“Yeah,” they try not to sniff. “I’ll be back next week, probably. It might take me a while. I don’t even know where I am.”   
  
“We miss you,” Mizai says, a reminder. “Me and Cheadle. I’ll take you both out to that cafe you like so much when you get back.”

 

“Okay,” Kite says. “I look forward to it.”   
  
“Me too,” Mizai says, sounding far away. The signal on their phone is terrible out here.   
  
“Sorry, I have to go,” Kite tells him. “The signal is shit.”

 

“Okay,” Mizai says. “I’ll see you soon, Kite.” They don’t reply.

 

They wipe their face and stand in the fire and head back to people they have never doubted love them.


	7. take what you can and run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how good this is i wanted something less angsty than what ive been writing becoz i am tired. might rearrange some of the chapters in this soon bc the ant kite ones are all linked and should probably be uploaded as their own separate series 
> 
> u kno where i am...as always

Ging sends a postcard today. It’s a shakily taken picture (because, despite all his talents, Ging has never really had the greatest eye for photography) from what looks to be the sea from the top of the World Tree. Kite turns it over in their hands.

 

_ Hi _ , Ging writes.  _ This is the sea from the top of that World Tree that isn’t actually a Word Tree because it didn’t grow properly. You know the one? I went back to it recently. I’ll take you someday, if you can keep up. _

 

_ See you later, _

 

_ (There is a hastily draw picture of what Kite thinks is a World Tree Bird chick). _

 

They smile, and turn the postcard back over in their hands, putting it on their unenthusiastically dubbed Ging Shelf. It would be almost domestic if he was ever here. They should get him to send them fridge magnets.

 

Kite is used to this. They are over a year into this new life. They let their cats chase their tail and they see Ging every few months and they’re taking the Hunter Exam again in January, which is next month. They still like their coffee iced - they no longer enjoy coffee cake. 

 

They no longer flinch at the bright eyes that look back at them in the mirror. They still dye their hair silver, though it feels less pressing to do so. Settling into who they are, now, is taking time.

 

Gon comes to visit, sometimes. Kite hopes he hits his growth spurt soon, mostly because they want to see him grow taller than Ging. 

 

\--

 

Kite is wrapped up on their couch, reading a book, when Ging arrives for his next (never planned) visit. He signs every postcard and letter with  _ see you soon  _ and nothing more.

 

“I wish you’d knock,” they drawl, head hitting the back of the couch as they look over it upside-down. 

 

“If you cared that much you’d lock the door,” Ging tells them as they can hear him trying to get his boots off. “Which you don’t.”   
  
“I live in the middle of nowhere,” Kite says. “Who is going to break in? Besides field mice and shoddily dressed Hunters with no manners?”

 

“Missed you too!” Ging curses as he finally wrestles his boots off, stomping into the living room. “Did you know it’s snowing? Do you have food?” Kite has the curtains open.   
  
“Yes,” they deadpan. “And yes. You can make yourself a sandwich.”   
  
“I can,” Ging says. He doesn’t move. 

 

“I’m not doing it for you,” Kite tells him. He still doesn’t move. Kite raises their eyebrows at him.

 

“What are you reading?” he asks, flopping down next to them instead of moving to head to the kitchen. They raise the book off their lap to show him the cover. It’s one he sent them about plant life on Whale Island.

 

“It’s interesting,” they mumble, suddenly very interested in their hands as Ging plants a kiss on the top of their head. “Where were you?”   
  
“You got my postcard,” he says. “And then I was wandering for a bit, you know. Usual. Got something in the works.”   
  
“Have you heard from Gon?” Kite asks. “He came to visit me before I did the exam.” They passed their exam last month - they’re still working on perfecting their nen ability. They’re a manipulator - the irony is not lost on them when they dream of strings pulling flesh from bone.   
  
“Oh, yeah, uh,” Ging still fumbles when it comes to Gon. “He calls me sometimes. He’s lost his nen.” Kite nods. “But I mean, it makes sense.” He scratches the stubble along the side of his face.

 

“He spoke to me about it,” Kite tells him. “I don’t know if anything can realistically be done. It seems to be more than the pores just being closed.” Ging grunts in agreement, nose pressed into Kite’s shoulder.

 

“Have you heard from Pariston?” Ging asks out of nowhere. Kite has to fight the urge to roll their eyes at the mention of the man. They haven’t seen Pariston in a while.

 

(Before their exam. They stayed with him for a few days because he was close to where they knew the exam would be starting and he held their face gently and helped them dye their hair. His cologne lingers on their skin for days, no matter how thoroughly they scrub. He kisses Kite like they’re something precious and says things that imply the exact opposite).   
  
“Not in a while,” they say. They know their eyes betray them, but Ging probably won’t call them out on it.   
  
“I think he’s involved in this thing I have in the works,” Ging stretches his legs out and Kite winces at the popping of his knees. 

 

“That sucks,” they say with a shrug. They really don’t know what Ging thinks of Pariston. It’s a convoluted relationship they don’t really want to think about. They’re pretty sure Pariston wants to find his way into Ging’s skull and break it open from the inside. They know Pariston doesn’t kiss Ging the same way he kisses them. 

 

“Whatever,” Ging says after a bark of laughter. “Can I stay a while?” 

 

“How long is a while?” they ask, batting him with their tail by mistake. 

 

“That still freaks me out,” he grins at them. “A month? More? This expedition is going to be a pain in the ass to sort out, I think.”   
  
“Sure,” they’ve never been able to deny Ging what he wants. “Stay as long as you want. I don’t really have anything coming up.” They did, but, well. Spinner will probably understand them pushing it back.

 

“Cool,” Ging murmurs into their neck, eyes closed. “Can we sleep on the couch?” Kite throws the blanket they have wrapped around their shoulders off to throw it over them both instead, moving onto their side. Ging nestles into their arms. They put the tableside lamp off, the only light on in the room.

 

They watch the snow fall outside and hold Ging steady in their arms and wonder if this slotting of bodies, this messy love, the longing that leaves them winded on nights where the house is empty will follow them across every lifetime.


End file.
